


Top Ten Reasons to Kill the King

by MichaelsManyMages (mikeythemage), mikeythemage



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Parents, Arguing, Author Is Not Religious, Banter, Coup d'état, F/M, Flower Crowns, Found Family, Kings & Queens, Knights - Freeform, LGBTQ Themes, Language of Flowers, M/M, Neurodiversity, Other, Overthrowing Monarchy, Religious Discussion, Revolution, Revolutionaries, Revolutionaries In Love, Swordfighting, frenemies to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:20:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27847582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeythemage/pseuds/MichaelsManyMages, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeythemage/pseuds/mikeythemage
Summary: Seventeen year old Efran Dormer lives a fairly average life. He's an only child, his mother is there, if not distant, and his father runs the country of Amecotin perfectly well with the help of only six royal advisers. A perfectly average life in his opinion. That is, of course, until he decides he wants to go exploring one night and ends up halfway across the country with a leg gushing blood. And then, to put the cherry on top, a group of revolutionaries agree to help him home as long as they can use him for leverage.
Relationships: Ellowen Stride/Eddison Canmore, Emory Tudor & Efran Dormer & Ellowen Stride & Eddison Canmore, Emory Tudor & Efran Dormer & Ellowen Stride & Eddison Canmore & The Canmore Family, Emory Tudor & Willis Efran Dormer, Emory Tudor/Efran Dormer, Issac Canmore & Oscar Rhodes & Lilith Wright & Lilac Hugh & Henry Hugh, Lilac Hugh & August Parsley, May Parsley & June Parsley & August Parsley, Oscar Rhodes/Issac Canmore (implied), Willis Efran Dormer III/Gwendolyn Dormer
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [compunctious829](https://archiveofourown.org/users/compunctious829/gifts), [Dark_Raven14](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Raven14/gifts).



* * *

There are certain unspoken rules that people tend to abide by when in charge of an entire country. For example, some of these many many rules are ‘ _Don’t sleep with a commoner_ ’, _‘Always wear some form of purple attire to a noble party’_ , and ‘ _Never wear black to a royal wedding_ ’. Of course, King Willis Efran Dormer III, ruler of the country of Amecotin, was never one for rules. Especially not when his son Prince Efran Dormer was born.

Maybe it was the king’s desperate attempts to make his son his copy. Ruthless, lacking empathy for the middle and lower classes, persuasive, good at twisting things for his own needs. All the things needed to be a great monarch, but not really the father-son bonding a child would want. The exact opposite, honestly.

If you were to ask Efran how he felt about it, he would say he didn’t care. If you were to ask Willis why he would only ever spend time with his son to coach him in politics, he would say it was good for him to learn at a young age.

If you were to ask Efran if he was happy, he would say yes. If you were to ask Willis if he wanted his son to be happy, he would say the question was irrelevant.

If you were to ask Efran if his parents loved him, he would respond with an enthusiastic yes. If you were to ask Willis if he loved his son, he would look at you over his book for a few solid seconds before sternly asking you to leave.


	2. I

“Honestly, Efran, I don’t know how your room manages to get so messy.” A teenager says leaning against the wall of a palace, their blonde hair held away from their face by a bandanna. “My dad and I clean it once a week and it always looks like a tornado went through there. What do you get up to?” They turn to their friend with a questioning look.

Efran, the friend in question, shrugs. His head is tilted up to the sky, eyes closed. His hair curling slightly just in front of his ear, just barely touching his cheek. The sun shines down on the two in rays, coating his skin in a golden light. It’s warm, not unusual for an August afternoon, and the sound of the castle workers moving around is pouring into the garden from the window above them. “No idea, Ester.”

“You don’t know what you get up to?” Ester says with amusement. “That’s a little worrying.”

Efran turns to them, furrowing his brow with an amused smile, “Shut up, oh my Gosh.” Ester laughs as Efran lightly shoves their shoulder. “I’ve just been really stressed lately because-”

“Your dad is being really vague about the stuff going on in the kingdom. I know, you’ve told me a billion times.”

“Then you know that I’m never really in my room.”

“Which is exactly why I’m confused!” Ester says, throwing their arms up towards the sky. “I mean, arguably, if you’re never in your room that shit should be absolutely spotless!”

“The time I spend in that room is very important to the well-being of the kingdom, Ester! That’s a very messy job!”

“Important to the well-being of the kingdom my ass. All you ever do in that room is write poetry, shower, and sleep! Literally only two of those require actual conscious thought!”

“Not true! I also plan attacks on the deadly forces trying to invade the kingdom.” Efran brings his hands into a spooky position, wiggling his fingers and bringing them to Ester’s gut to tickle them.

“You are so full of shit.” They laugh, swatting away at Efran’s hands.

There’s a clattering from the window above them, followed by a string of curses. Both teenagersfreeze before turning to look at the window, even though they can’t see anything from where they’re standing. “Seriously, Canmore?” Randy Franklin’s, Ester’s dad, voice rings out, followed by a snicker from Johnathon. “What have I told you about watching where you’re going in this kitchen, soldier?”

A timid yet deep voice speaks next, “Sorry Mr. Franklin.” it says, followed by the sound of retreating armored footsteps. Randy mutters to himself under his breath before another pair of footsteps enters the kitchen.

“Afternoon, Randy, Johnathan.” says a woman’s voice.

“Afternoon, Francine.” Both men say.

“Did’ja hear ‘bout that raid in Jostinson that happened a couple days ago? From what me mum’s been tellin’ me it was a right mess.”

“Yeah, I heard about it from Essey.”

“Well I certainly haven’t heard anything,” Jonathan says, “what’s it all about, then?”

“Word in town says it was a total bloodbath. No fire this time, guess The Red Hallow tryin’ to switch up their tactics.”

“You know, Ester thinks it wasn’t actually The Red Hallow. Thinks their whole group is being framed.”

Francine huffs a laugh, “Wouldn’ be surprised if they were right.” she says, “King Dormer don’t exactly take kindly to groups like them.”

Randy laughs, “You’re telling me! Do you remember when that group tried to disagree with his farm law fifteen years ago?”

“Oh Jesus! It’s been years since I’ve heard anything about them.”

“Do ya mean that group the king said ‘went missin’? That was such a load of bollocks. Just say ya killed ‘em and go, mate.” The three adults laugh with each other for a moment, Ester shooting Efran a worried glance.

“Speakin’ o’ the king, ya seen his son anywhere ‘round here? Been lookin’ for him for ages and I can’t seem to find him.”

“What’cha need him for?” Jonathan asks.

“King asked me to get him. Apparently he needs to have some talk with ‘im. Won’t tell me a thing ‘bout it.”

Randy hums, “Last I saw him he was out in the garden with Ester. Try there?”

Francine facepalms, made obvious by the sound of skin slapping skin, and sighs, “Don’t know why I didn’ check there first. Thanks lads.”

“No problem.” they both mutter as she walks out. The usual sounds of pots and pans banging against each other resumes, but Efran is still fixated on the window.

“Are you okay?” Ester asks, brows furrowing. Efran doesn’t say anything, instead turning back around to face the garden again.

The door to their left opens, Francine walking out in her usual clothing. She looks over at Efran and smiles with relief, “There ya are, ya little rascal. Been lookin’ all over this place for ya. Yer dad wants ya up in the strategy room. Said it’s urgent.”

Efran nods once before briskly making his way to the door and pushing past Francine as lightly as possible. 

She raises a brow at the prince, “Do ya need me to walk ya there?”

“I’m fine. I know where I’m going.” He says quickly before disappearing down the hall.

“What’s got his knickers in a twist?” Francine asks, turning to Ester with a smirk.

Ester motions to the open window above their head. Francine follows their hand and her smirk falls off her face in seconds.

“Shite.” she mutters, running a hand down her face. She looks exhausted all of a sudden. Letting the implications of the open window set in. Everyone knows that Efran doesn’t keep anything concerning Willis’ authority from him.

Ester crosses their arms, “Yeah. You guys might want to watch what you’re talking about. You don’t know who could be around.” their tone is scolding, but they’re just as scared. It’s their own father, after all.

Francine nods, motioning with her head for Ester to follow her back inside. They do, stiffly, and when the two enter the kitchen the faces of the two men turn to them with smiles.

“So, you found him?” Jonathan asks, and Francine nods once.

“‘Fraid he and Essey heard our lil’ conversation.” She motions over to the window with her head. And just like she did moments before, as their faces fall when their eyes land on it, they say in unison,

“Shit.”

  
  


* * *

Efran stands outside the door to the strategy room, straightening out his shirt and wiping his hands on his pants. He takes in a deep breath before knocking lightly on the large wood door. There’s no answer for a moment before a deep voice tells him to come in. He opens the door as little as possible for him to slip inside.

Willis sits at his desk, hands clasped together and resting in front of his face. His desk is covered with papers strewn carelessly about, some of them have fallen on the floor. He looks tired, or to be more accurate, completely exhausted. It doesn’t seem like he’s slept in days. Efran stands against the door, waiting for him to speak.

WIllis sits back in his chair, motioning to the seat across from him. Efran quickly walks across the room to sit down, holding his breath the entire time. It’s not that he’s scared of his father, he just knows that the only time he’s ever allowed in the strategy room is when he’s about to get bad news. The first time he was in here, he was seven and it was because his horse needed to be put down. The second time he was in here, he was twelve and it was because his mother had decided that she no longer wanted to have dinner with them. It’s been six years since the last time he was in here.

His father stares at, although it feels more like through, Efran. It’s a hard stare, the same stare he’s been seeing for as long as he can remember. He’s never liked that stare, it always made him feel like a burden. “Efran,” Willis says, “you’re almost eighteen.”

Right. It’s this talk. He’s finally getting the ‘one day you’re gonna be king’ talk. He doesn’t know if he’s excited or completely terrified. For all he knows this is going to be a complete disaster.

“I think it’s about time that I told you what’s been happening these past six years.” Oh. Wrong talk then. “There’s been some complications in the kingdom recently. I’m sure you were able to figure that out from how stressed I’ve been, I’ve taught you well enough for you to do so. When you were twelve, I started to show you less and less attention,” Efran almost laughs at that, “and I want you to know that while eventually we would have had to spend less time together anyway since you _were_ getting older, that I expected to have at least another week spending every other day with you.

“But then something happened, and that expectation was proven incorrect. I hope that you aren’t mad or upset that I don’t talk to you these days. After all, it's not my fault I don’t have time for you and it would be pointless to have your feelings hurt over it. I’ve been too busy trying to stop those terrorists from burning down my towns to spend time with you. Especially since you aren’t particularly interesting. You understand that, don’t you?”.

Okay, _ow_.

“Of course, sir. But what terrorists are you talking about?”

“There’s a group that showed up when you were twelve that’s been raiding the smaller towns of our country and then setting them on fire. They’ve been operating for God knows how long, and we’re yet to stop them. They call themselves The Red Hallow.”

Efran raises a brow, “The Red Hallow? I heard some of the palace staff talking about them earlier today.”

If Willis could show any emotion other than ‘total indifference’, Efran is sure he would look shocked right now, “Really?” he asks, “What were they saying.”

Efran squirms in his seat, “They were talking about a raid in Jostinson that happened a few days ago. Apparently it was a bloodbath, if the people in the city are anyone to go by. Sounded like it was really bad.”

Willis hums to himself, “It was. But it wasn’t in Jostinson, it was in Régalire. Easy mix up, I suppose, considering the two are quite close to one another. But the part about it being a bloodbath is correct. There wasn’t a single person left alive in the entire town. No fire this time, which is strange for them. Fire or not, they still put their logo on the ground in blood. Guess they like to make it obvious it was them.” He slides a piece of paper to Efran. The logo is four red dogs running around a delta symbol on a blue background. Efran slides the paper back to his father.

“So far they’ve raided Frechstenstein, Kralia, Ozltéy, Triglun, and dozens more in the Gresteo region. They’re working their way inward, towards the capital, and I fear that they’re going to try and overthrow us one day.”

“What if they’re being framed, sir?” Efran asks, and he knows immediately it was the wrong question based solely on the way his father’s fists clench.

“You should know better than to entertain such an idea, Efran. I raised you better than that.”

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that Ester thinks.”

“Ester?” Willis asks, raising a brow. Efran gulps, “You got that idea from Ester? The groundskeeper's child, Ester Franklin?” Efran nods, knowing that there’s no point in lying. Willis looks out the window to his left in thought for a few moments before turning back to his son. “I don’t want you hanging out with Ester anymore.”

Efran’s eyes blow wide in shock, “Father, that’s ridiculous!” he exclaims.

“What have I said about talking back to me, Efran?” The tone of the older man’s voice freezes the teenager on the spot. It never means good things. Efran clasps his hands together, placing them in his lap and staring at them. 

“You’re lucky I don’t have you thrown in the stocks for even attempting such a thing, but that would be a bad image for the family. I may just have to keep you in your chambers for the next week to try and teach you a lesson because _obviously_ sending you to bed without dinner isn’t working anymore. And for the last time, don’t call me father. It’s _sir_. I do not want you spending any more time with Ester Franklin, Efran. Have I made myself clear?” Efran nods. “God dammit, boy, use your words!” Willis says, slamming his hand onto his desk causing Efran to flinch.

“Yes sir. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear. I’m not to spend any more time with Ester Franklin.”

“Good.” The older man says, straightening in his chair and wiping his torso of invisible dirt. “Now clear off, I have a meeting with my advisors in ten minutes and I don’t want you here when they arrive. You know how embarrassing you can be.”

“Of course, sir.” Efran says as he stands, practically jogging to the door.

“Oh, and Efran?” Willis says just before the teen is about to leave.

“Yes?”

“Do not disobey me.”

Efran leaves the room without another word. Once he’s into the hallway he lets out a large breath, running one hand through his hair and placing the other over his heart. “That was fucked.” he mumbles to himself, walking in the direction of the kitchen to find Ester. Which, yeah, he shouldn’t be doing, but he had to at _least_ be the one to tell them that they aren’t allowed to hang out anymore.

He walks through the large hallways, his footsteps echoing slightly. The tapestries of the family crest, a dove being shot down by an arrow on a red backdrop, looming over him as usual. Barren walls other than the occasional portrait of past rulers, tables every twenty or so feet with assortments of Black Dahlias and Wolfsbane. Those had been his mothers additions because she thought the palace looked ‘too dead’ without them.

Ester isn’t in the kitchen when he finally arrives, and according to the rest of the staff around the castle they aren’t anywhere else, either. It’s dark out by the time he’s circled around the entire palace. Still no sight of the other teen. He’s resting his forehead against the horse, Queue, when a light comes from around the corner.

“Hey! What you doin’ in ‘ere?” Isaac, the stable boy, calls out to him. Efran lifts his head with a sigh, waving his hand a bit, and Isaac goes from defensive to relaxed. “Oh. Sorry, your highness. Didn’t mean to yell at’cha.”

Efran waves his hand dismissively, “It’s fine, Isaac.” Queue startles at the mention of Issac, having never been his biggest fan, and jumps out of her stable before running off into the night. Leaving two shocked teenagers in her wake.

“Aw, shit!” Isaac exclaims as Efran cringes with a slight bit of shock. Isaac is only fourteen, having taken Ester’s old job once their older sibling was able to do the bigger chores, and rarely ever swears. Efran’s also sure he’s faking the southern accent, considering no one else in his family has it, but he’s sure that the younger will grow out of it one day. (Ester does not hold back their hatred for the accent, which Efran finds extremely amusing.)

“Sorry. I’ll tell my father that was my fault. I’ll get in trouble, not you. I shouldn’t have gone to Queue for comfort. I know how little she cares for you.”

“She cares for me just fine.” Isaac says, almost defensively, before remembering who he’s talking to. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Efran says back, and it’s quiet for a while as the two stare after where the grey horse just went.

“Right then.” The stable boy says out of nowhere, raising a brow, “What _are_ ya doin’ in ‘ere, though? Can’t think of any reason the prince would wanna be in the stables.” his last sentence is obviously teasing, something he had never thought to hold back even when he was younger (well… _younger_ younger), and Efran smiles goodnaturedly.

“I’ve been looking for Ester all afternoon” Efran says, and Isaac raises a brow. Likely because he’s used to Efran and Ester being attached at the hip. “Have you seen them around anywhere?”

Isaac shakes his head, “‘Fraid not, dude. Last I saw ‘em they were with you headin’ down to the garden this mornin’.”

“Right.” Efran says with a curt nod, standing up and brushing off his legs. Well, he just wasted an entire day for nothing. Great. He turns to Isaac with a smile. “Can you tell them that I’m going to be speaking with them anymore when you see them?”

If Isaac is shocked by the request he hides it well, although his voice is a bit tight when he says, “Course.”

Efran gives him a sad smile. “Thanks. Good night.”

“Night.”

Efran walks out back to his room, exhausted. It’s going to be pretty hard to avoid Ester tomorrow morning. They tend to go to the same spots to relax, considering they discovered them all together, and there aren't many of them. The thing Efran wants to happen the _least_ is running into them and having to explain that they can’t be friends anymore without _really_ explaining. You’re not allowed to tell anyone what happens in the strategy room. Palace rule.

He slips into bed after his servants, that’s what his dad calls them he just likes to call them helpers, help him bathe and change into his pajamas. He doesn’t sleep much for the first few hours. Just stares up at the dark ceiling until eventually he slips away. 

  
  


* * *

Ester is nowhere to be found when he wakes up the next morning. He tries to trick himself into thinking it doesn’t bother him. He isn’t successful.

* * *

It’s two days later when Efran is called back into the strategy room, and to say he’s nervous would be an understatement. He is absolutely freaking out. Sure, he’d asked Mr. Franklin where Ester was the day after his talk with his father, but he didn’t think his father would care considering no one had seen Ester since the night before.

This time, when he enters the room, his father is turned away facing the wall. “Sit.” is all he says, and when Efran does sit down he still doesn’t turn to him.

“Have I,” his voice is shaking, something Willis has scolded him for multiple times, so he clears his throat, “Have I done something wrong, sir?”

“No, I’m afraid I have.” Efran’s eyes widen at that before he narrows them, staring at his Father’s back. That’s… new. And by ‘new’ I mean ‘never expected to happen in a million years ever’, but I digress.

“I asked your… friend Ester to go out yesterday afternoon to find that horse that escaped. Queue. And I assumed it was just taking a while when they weren’t back by sundown but.” he pauses, turning around for the first time. He’s holding Ester’s yellow bandanna, and it’s covered in blood. “I’m sorry, Efran. They aren’t going to be coming back.”

Efran can hardly breathe. He has to be dreaming. He has to be. There’s no way that this is happening. There’s pressure in his ear, and they’re ringing as he tries to wrap his head around what he just got told. He thinks about the times he and Ester spent underneath the east stairwell as children. He thinks about the secret nook in the garden that they would hide from Randy in. He thinks about the inside jokes they had. He thinks about their secret code they made as kids that anyone could figure out with the bare minimum amount of effort. Most importantly, he thinks about how all of that’s gone now. 

His best friend, no, his _only_ friend, isn’t coming home. He goes to speak, to say anything, but his father beats him to it. “Now,” he says, “I’ve been wanting to go over the newest plan against those terrorists with you. I think you’re ready to join this battle.” And those few seconds to grieve are over. And he knows that he’ll never get any more. At least not while Willis is still in the picture, and that won't happen for a _very_ long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I’d like to take this time to warn you, the reader, about some possibly triggering aspect of this book. I feel the need to have one for those who could be sensitive to some of the material.
> 
> \- Character death, both explicit and reference  
> \- Panic attacks  
> \- ADHD episodes  
> \- Violence/Arguing  
> \- Some fatal injuries  
> \- Mentions of religion  
> \- Mentions of abuse  
> \- Fire
> 
> Please continue at your own discretion!


End file.
